creak. There was another vault in the wall to his left, full of weapons, but this was what he was after. He lifted out a small box containing an ID, five hundred dollars in twenties, and a very expired credit card. Taking the ID and some of the money, Jonas grabbed a small, black leather pouch from the vault too. It was heavy in his palm and he hoped the device within still worked. He debated on taking the long object wrapped in a frail, yellow grocery bag, but decided it could wait.
He set the items on the kitchen table, which was so thick with dust it looked like it might be wearing a hairpiece, and began shedding the acrid clothes he wore. He yanked open the closet, hoping the clothes there hadn’t fallen to pieces over the years. An old pair of jeans and a plain white tee (no longer all that white) would do.
The pump had to be primed, and he had little hope that it would still work, but it did. Muck and the stench of an unknown life ran off him in the cold shower. He scrubbed a generous amount of the shampoo, which had separated into its component parts, into his hair and beard, and it still seemed to do the trick. He stopped to look at the shaggy beard and wild, long hair in the dim mirror, thinking about grabbing a razor, but he didn’t have time for vanity. All he needed was to smell less like garbage for the car rental place.
Jonas hurried back into town and rented a small car. The cool of the air conditioner felt strange and amazing to him. It was like feeling comfort for the first time. He supposed he might have been. At least in a long time.
He took the leather pouch he’d retrieved from the shelter earlier from his pocket. The small, square object, which looked like a tiny, portable television, stuck to its thin leather case and had to be pried out. He flipped it on—glad it still came to life—and slipped a finger into a notch in the side. The screen flickered a few times and began loading. In a few seconds a confirmation of his identity and a map of the area appeared. A scrolling line on the bottom of the screen let him know that it was in the process of searching for a signal.
He had been against it. He fought against the implants. But their Earth was unlike the one to which they had been going. There weren’t people like them there. People with powers. They were children, and children would make mistakes. It was too much of a risk, they’d said. Finally, he consented that they were right. For the first time, he was glad that he did. Jonas would find them because of those implants. If they were anywhere within two thousand miles of where he sat, they’d show up. As long as the implants were still functioning.
Jonas went cold at the thought. What if he sat for hours waiting for a signal that would never come? Worse: what if while he was waiting for a little green light to lead him to his girls, that Wraith was on its way to one of them? What if… the device gave a hollow beep, and the first of the lights appeared. She was just seven miles away. He almost broke down at the idea that he was less than ten minutes from seeing one of his little girls, who were—it was the first time the thought had come to him—by now, young women. He sat the device in the cup holder next to him and drove as it continued searching for the other two girls.
***
Angela always made sure she had something to do on a Friday night. But she’d broken her—albeit often flexible—rule about partying too hard on school nights. She had a hangover from hell. She popped four aspirin and oozed onto the couch. After throwing up twice at school that morning, she left to go home. Now, the worst of it was over, but she still felt lousy. That, and she was royally pissed that Nathan had ditched her at the party. She’d had to sleep on Michael’s couch—the guy who threw the party—and wear some of his sister’s clothes to school, which fit like crap and were miles from couture.
Flipping on the television, she wrapped a throw
He set the items on the kitchen table, which was so thick with dust it looked like it might be wearing a hairpiece, and began shedding the acrid clothes he wore. He yanked open the closet, hoping the clothes there hadn’t fallen to pieces over the years. An old pair of jeans and a plain white tee (no longer all that white) would do.
The pump had to be primed, and he had little hope that it would still work, but it did. Muck and the stench of an unknown life ran off him in the cold shower. He scrubbed a generous amount of the shampoo, which had separated into its component parts, into his hair and beard, and it still seemed to do the trick. He stopped to look at the shaggy beard and wild, long hair in the dim mirror, thinking about grabbing a razor, but he didn’t have time for vanity. All he needed was to smell less like garbage for the car rental place.
Jonas hurried back into town and rented a small car. The cool of the air conditioner felt strange and amazing to him. It was like feeling comfort for the first time. He supposed he might have been. At least in a long time.
He took the leather pouch he’d retrieved from the shelter earlier from his pocket. The small, square object, which looked like a tiny, portable television, stuck to its thin leather case and had to be pried out. He flipped it on—glad it still came to life—and slipped a finger into a notch in the side. The screen flickered a few times and began loading. In a few seconds a confirmation of his identity and a map of the area appeared. A scrolling line on the bottom of the screen let him know that it was in the process of searching for a signal.
He had been against it. He fought against the implants. But their Earth was unlike the one to which they had been going. There weren’t people like them there. People with powers. They were children, and children would make mistakes. It was too much of a risk, they’d said. Finally, he consented that they were right. For the first time, he was glad that he did. Jonas would find them because of those implants. If they were anywhere within two thousand miles of where he sat, they’d show up. As long as the implants were still functioning.
Jonas went cold at the thought. What if he sat for hours waiting for a signal that would never come? Worse: what if while he was waiting for a little green light to lead him to his girls, that Wraith was on its way to one of them? What if… the device gave a hollow beep, and the first of the lights appeared. She was just seven miles away. He almost broke down at the idea that he was less than ten minutes from seeing one of his little girls, who were—it was the first time the thought had come to him—by now, young women. He sat the device in the cup holder next to him and drove as it continued searching for the other two girls.
***
Angela always made sure she had something to do on a Friday night. But she’d broken her—albeit often flexible—rule about partying too hard on school nights. She had a hangover from hell. She popped four aspirin and oozed onto the couch. After throwing up twice at school that morning, she left to go home. Now, the worst of it was over, but she still felt lousy. That, and she was royally pissed that Nathan had ditched her at the party. She’d had to sleep on Michael’s couch—the guy who threw the party—and wear some of his sister’s clothes to school, which fit like crap and were miles from couture.
Flipping on the television, she wrapped a throw
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